


Get Even

by mssrj_335



Series: Will/Santi Bin [1]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Banter, Breaking Things, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Will Miller, Possessive Santiago, Rough Kissing, Sharing Clothes, Teasing, The results of sexting, Will Miller Counts Everything, Will Miller is a Tease, kiss prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Will's been driving Santiago crazy for hours. When he gets home, he's definitely in for it.--For the kiss prompt: kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it somewhere horizontal
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller
Series: Will/Santi Bin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124348
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Get Even

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/gifts).



> i usually read santiago as the giant tease, so let's flip it shall we??

With a jingle of keys and a rattle, the front door opens and Will slips inside. The hallway’s a bit dark, just the light from a lamp and the flickering TV in the front room filtering in. Quietly, he slips off his boots, drops his bag, hangs his keys. Locks the door.

“You.”

Will whirls on his heel, draws taut. At the end of the hall stands a familiar shadow.

“ _You_.”

Oh, shit.

“Hey—” He puts his hands up, placating. Too bad it doesn’t work.

Santiago marches right up and into his face, fists his hands tight in Will’s shirt and _shoves_. If he’d really wanted to, he could’ve put up a fight. Operative word here being _want._ But Will’s so taken aback by the hot, hungry look in Pope’s eye that he momentarily loses coordination and his back hits the door with a dull thump.

“You got some nerve, you know that?” Pope’s teeth are inches from his ear, forearm firm against his chest, a knee between his thighs—fuck, is that Pope’s dick on his hip? Will might’ve forgotten how to breathe. Doesn’t mean he’s forgotten how to play.

“You might have to elaborate,” he drawls, carefully dry. “What exactly have I done this time?”

Santiago snorts and Will bites down on a grin. He can count on one hand the number of times Pope has absolutely lost it. This makes number six. As planned. He just hopes to hell this ends the way he wants it to. Pope’s eyes slide from his down his face, end up somewhere around his chest. Christ, he can almost feel it.

“You have been gone _way_ too long—” Pope growls.

“Oh, you forgot how to count then? I said ten days.”

“—and you waltz back in here, wearing my clothes,” he continues, unfazed. “After pulling that _stunt_.”

Will smirks. “I thought you liked it.”

“I _do_ ,” Pope hisses. “What I _don’t_ like is you sendin’ nudes from the plane bathroom _four hours ago_.”

“Wasn’t four hours.”

Will could swear Pope’s eye twitches. “You tellin’ me you’ve been countin’ the minutes you’ve blue-balled me? Right down to the second, aren’t you? _God_ , you’re a dick.”

“No, you like my dick,” Will corrects affably. “ _I’m_ just getting even.”

“ ** _Even_**? You call this even?”

Will makes a considering face, rests his hands on Santiago’s arms where they’re still pressed against his chest. “Well there was that time in Bogotá.”

“Fuck Bogotá, you didn’t have to wait half a goddamn day, a dirty pic and caption pingin’ your phone every half hour on the goddamn dot.”

“Wasn’t four hours,” he repeats, finally letting a smirk onto his face when Santi looks floored by the goddamn gall. “Three hours forty minutes.”

“What— You— I can’t even—” Santiago sputters, his grip tightens, and it’s all Will can do to stifle a laugh. “Jesus Christ. You really did count, didn’t you.”

“Yep.”

Santiago’s eyes narrow. “You planned this, you fucker.”

“Yep.” He raises his chin defiantly. “So what’re you gonna do about it?”

If there’s one thing he knows it’s, more than anything, Pope likes a challenge.

He gives it five seconds.

_One._ He tilts his head back just enough to look at Santiago from under his lashes. _Two._ Tongues his bottom lip, pulls it between his teeth. Teasing. _Three_. His eyes track from Santiago’s to his mouth and back. Calculated. _Four._ His lips part—

Fuck, suddenly Pope’s all _over_ the place. Will’s not sure what all is where but Santiago’s tongue is in his mouth and his hands are sliding down the front of his shirt then the back of his pants and he can’t get enough. Teeth catch his lip, bite hard. Will groans low in his throat and Pope gasps back. He pulls back and for a flash, Will thinks he might have pushed it too far. But no. Not gone for long. Santiago’s working his way past Will’s belt, mouth hot and demanding on his throat. Fingers barely brush his dick and— Ok, time to flip.

“You’re so impatient.”

Will rushes to action, pushes Pope back against the wall so hard the hanging keys rattle. Santi looks dazed for all of a second then he’s panting, groaning, pulling Will down, snaking a hand up into his shirt—Pope’s own shirt—and yanking it over his head. He’s barely free before Pope pushes him down the hall. Maybe a little harder than intended—his ass hits a side table. Something crashes and shatters. Well, whatever the fuck it was is _not_ dissuading Santiago. Not one bit. His hand catches Will’s wrist to keep him from falling ass over ears only to pull him off-balance into the wall again. This time a picture shatters under his shoulders, glass clinks on the tile and the whole thing clatters down. But Pope’s too focused on getting a hand on his ass to notice and really, who is he to complain? Well, maybe he’ll complain a little.

“And you’re such an _ass_ ,” he groans. “Can’t even take a little of what you dish out daily.”

Santiago doesn’t answer, except to dig his teeth into Will’s bare shoulder and yes, that _is_ Pope’s dick, hot and heavy through his loose pajama bottoms. Despite Will being taller and longer, Santiago fits a hand under his knee and hauls his leg up over his hip. It gives him enough leverage to roll their hips together. That earns him a groan. So he does it again. Or tries to. Pope’s got one hand around his thigh and the other under his ass and Will’s barely balanced on the toes of one foot, hanging on to Santiago’s shoulders for dear life. He’s no lightweight—not by a long shot—but Pope forces him farther up the wall to mouth at his chest and another photo falls.

“You’re cleaning that shit up,” he bites out before Santi nips him again and steals the words from his mouth.

“Sure, fine, whatever doll.” Pope tongues the line of his collarbone. “Just—shut _up._ ”

Will sucks the lobe of Pope’s ear between his teeth and Santiago all but drops him, desperately drags him back to the bedroom. He’s got a look on his face that promises a wild ride. Exactly as planned.

Damn it’s good to get even.


End file.
